Penance
by SilverRayan
Summary: Swindle feels terribly guilty for betraying his brothers. He overhears them grumbling about how much their youngest has cost them. When a discussion about ways he could make up the debt comes up Swindle takes to spark the idea to sell the only thing he has left: his body. And at this point he will do anyting to earn forgiveness... Dubcon, Swindle/Multi
1. Chapter 1

Guilt was not a feeling Swindle was used to. He was a conmech and a damn good one. He took pride in his ability to trick others into giving him what he needed. Namely, credits. Lots and lots of credits. But he could admit, if only to himself, that this time he had gone too far.

He honestly hadn't planned on selling his brothers as spare parts. He had approached El Presidente to haggle for parts for Onslaught. He figured if his eldest brother was up and running then the tactician would have a plan to get the others back to Hook. How his original plan changed to selling his brothers was a little… fuzzy. Swindle remembered El Presidente mentioning it, promising that he would repossess all of the Cybertronian equipment he sold, and promising a good deal of money in exchange. But the safety of his family was the one thing that had never been for sale.

In the end, Swindle figured, it was probably the promise that he would get his brothers back unharmed, combined with the substantial payment, that had swayed him. He could see now that despite the huge profit it hadn't been worth it. He had lost his brothers' respect and trust.

Sighing, he knew that he couldn't avoid them forever. He had done so ever since they had returned, swapping shifts to make sure that he could recharge when they were on their own shifts. But his luck had run out, and he had no choice but to return to the Combaticons' shared quarters to recharge. He needed to before his next shift. Soundwave was going to be overseeing him and he did not want to mess up. He stood reluctantly, not meeting anyone's optics as he left the mess hall. He encountered no one in the halls, which was good. The last thing he wanted was to have to deal with other mechs. The trip was too short, and he soon found himself standing in front of their living unit.

Swindle entered the unit quietly. His is brothers were livid with him right now and he didn't want to provoke them. Megatron had put them all on half-rations, given their failure against the Protectobots and Swindle's part in almost destroying Bruticus. Their leader had said that if they couldn't even manage their youngest teammate then they were banned from the battle field until he was under control; their lack of contribution to the army meant they only needed minimal rations. Or so Megatron decreed. And they were confined to the Nemesis until further notice. That was simply the rust flakes on the oil cake; his betrayal alone was sure to earn him a severe, ongoing punishment. Onslaught was very good at those.

He crept down the hall to the common room but paused when he saw the light peaking out under the door. He could hear voices inside.

"Little bastard loves his credits so much he should sell himself. Earn back some of our rations with _his_ body, see how he likes it," Vortex muttered darkly. Brawl laughed. The sound was cruel and grating, and pierced Swindle's spark.

"Yeah. Swin definitely owes us. Motormaster was mouthin' off at me, thinkin' he's better than us. Sayin' that his team may be glitched but at least they are loyal. Had ta punch his face in to get him to shut the frag up."

"Che, Motormaster is a brute. That's the only reason those younglings fear him." Blast Off didn't take his optics off of his datapad. He said nothing about their wayward brother, though his optics were bright with anger. Vortex noticed immediately.

"Aw come on Blasty, even you have to admit you are pissed off at Swindle."

"Furious. And don't call me Blasty."

Swindle had heard enough. He slipped away quietly, not wanting his brothers to know he was spying. He was in enough trouble already. And they did have a point. He owed them so much. He was a liar and a cheat, but he had never, _never_ meant to hurt his brothers. They were all he had, and he was lucky they had taken him back. Perhaps he should seriously consider Vortex's suggestion. He had made it too far down the hall to hear Onslaught say,

"That is enough. I do not care how angry you are. Swindle will be punished, but it will certainly not be with prostitution. If any of you even joke about it to Swindle you will serve triple his punishment. Am I clear?" Brawl look startled, while Vortex rolled his optics.

"Geez Ons, you make it sound like we were serious."

* * *

Swindle did recharge, but set his alarm to wake him early. He needed the time to think. He had possibly found a way to earn his brothers' forgiveness. If they suggested it to him he would comply without complaint. If not, he would do it anyway. He was nervous – it had been ages since his last interface – but he had crunched the numbers and knew that if he stuck to the plan then he could earn back enough credits to compensate for their energon loss in four quartex. He could do this. He just has to stick to the plan.

His first target was Scavenger. He knew that the digger was often overlooked in favor of his gestaltmates. He sought the Constructicon out after his shift with Soundwave, making sure to have a bright smile plastered on his face.

"Scavenger my mech! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"Why?" The construction vehicle's tone was wary. Swindle pouted.

"I'm hurt. I approach you with the deal of the vorn, and you greet me with suspicion. Fine, I will take my deal elsewhere." The jeep turned away, counting on Scavenger's curiosity to get the better of him. Sure enough, he made it only five paces before Scavenger called him back.

"Fine, I'll bite. What's the deal?" Scavenger tried to look uninterested, but Swindle often had such interesting merchandise! It couldn't hurt to take a look.

"Well my friend, I have noticed that you seem rather… tense." Swindle idly traced a seam in the digger's side, demonstrating exactly what he meant by "tense". "Now I'm not a mech who likes to see his friends suffer," Scavenger snorted. Swindle carried on as though he hadn't heard, "So I am willing to fix your problem – for a fee, of course."

"Of course," Scavenger said skeptically. "What's the catch?"

"No catch. You 'face me, we both feel good and I earn a profit. As easy as that. Deal?" The Constructicon considered the outstretched hand. Swindle was being awfully blunt, but that was probably because the last time he had tangled with the Constructicons had gone poorly for him. Hook was vindictive and had waited a long time to get revenge. Swindle still wouldn't go to the medbay without one of his brothers. But it was true that the pair were kind of friends – they had bonded over being the youngest in their respective gestalts. As for the fee, well it had been a very long time since his last 'face that it would be worth it. Probably.

"Deal."

* * *

Swindle led the other mech to an unused storage room. He had managed to smuggle a berth into the room by bribing the mech on monitor duty to look the other way. He suppressed a shudder as he thought about the look Astrotrain had given him. That mech was scary smart even though he chose not to show it; the dealer knew to expect a visit from the trainformer soon. For now, however, he had a Constructicon to entertain.

"So here's the deal: four hundred credits for a full interface, two hundred for just oral, and five hundred and up if you want to throw in any fetishes." Scavenger stared blankly for a moment. Swindle sure loved his credits if he was willing to go that far to get them.

"Any fetishes?" Swindle honestly would have preferred to say no fetishes at all, but the Decepticons were kinky fraggers, and he knew he could make more by agreeing.

"Nothing that causes permanent damage or is life threatening. Beyond that, I don't care. The kinkier the fetish, the more it will cost you." Scavenger considered. Four hundred was high for a simple interface, but to imply that would insult Swindle, and he would lose his chance altogether. But he really, _really _did not want to explain to Scrapper and Hook where four hundred credits had gone. Pulling out a credit chip he handed it to the jeep. Swindle looked at it. Two hundred. Not the amount he needed, but a part of him was relieved. He could do this, no problem. If his smile was a little fake Scavenger didn't notice.

**Edited to fit FFN Guidelines. Available on Ao3**

"Frag you're good," the purple and green mech purred appreciatively.

"Of course I am!" Swindle boasted. A comm call from Bonecrusher interrupted anything else Scavenger might have said.

"Well, I've got to go. Pleasure doing business with you." Scavenger practically strutted from the room. As soon as the door shut the cheery grin slid off of Swindle's face. He was two hundred credits closer to forgiveness. That was all that mattered.


	2. Chapter 2

Onslaught certainly knew his brothers. He knew exactly what buttons to push to get them to work hard, and what ones kept them in line. He never shared the information with his commanders; doing so would be tantamount to murder. He could not have other mechs, no matter their ranks, using his team's weaknesses against them. That didn't stop him from using them himself.

Swindle didn't like to be alone. He thrived on social interaction. He was happiest when surrounded by a gullible mechs and femmes who he could con. By assigning Swindle to inventory in the bowels of the Nemesis for the foreseeable future – combined with Swindle's religious avoidance of his brothers – Onslaught had effectively isolated his youngest sibling for a great portion of the day. This would have been the most successful punishment he could have given the jeep at any other time. It would have forced Swindle to wallow in his loneliness and realize how much he needed his teammates. Unfortunately, all it did this time was give Swindle's clients easy access to him.

"Hello Swindle," a deep baritone voice purred. Swindle sighed internally, but turned away from his inventory to face the mech with a bright smile.

"Astrotrain! What can I do for you, my good mech?" The triplechanger was leaning against the doorframe, filling it with is bulk. Swindle was smart enough to read into the subtle threat – there was no way out unless Astrotrain allowed it. Pushing away from the door, the larger mech strolled into the room.

"Heard an interesting rumor. Seems you finally put yourself on the market."

"Indeed I did." Swindle said nothing else, waiting to see how this would play out. Astrotrain smirked.

"Glad to hear it. So the going rate's four hundred creds?"

"Depends. If you just want to 'face, then yes. If you want to schedule a time then…"

"Oh no, I think we will do this right here and now." Swindle froze. This storage room was off the beaten path, so to speak, but there were still patrols that came by, and mechs would pop in occasionally for parts. They all had orders not to talk to him, but that didn't mean that they weren't there. Not to mention that his brothers would check in to make sure he was still doing his job. But… he could charge a lot more for a public interface.

"Sure," he smirked, "but it will cost you." Astrotrain frowned.

"What the frag are you talking about?"

"Come now, Astro, think about it. I am currently on a punishment detail. There are several mechs who would report to Megatron and Onslaught that I am… doing pleasure before business, which will get me slagged. So, if you want to 'face right now, then you owe me, oh let's say one thousand credits." The look on the trainformer's face was ugly.

"Not a chance. Five hundred."

"Mmm, no. Nine fifty."

"Six hundred."

"That's almost insulting, Astro. Nine hundred." Astrotrain was getting seriously fragged off. But he wanted the jeep, with his tight little body, and sweet talking mouth. Fine, he'd make one final offer, and the fragger would take it if he knew what was good for him.

"Eight hundred, and you better moan like a whore through the whole thing."

"Make it eight fifty and you've got yourself a deal."

"Fine," Astrotrain snarled. He lunged for the smaller mech, grabbing him and pinning him against the wall. Swindle didn't struggle, though he wanted to. But they had made a deal, and he had to go through with it.

'It's just another transaction,' he reminded himself. 'More credits, which means more energon.' Firming his resolve, the purple and tan mech let himself relax into the triplechanger's hold as the larger mech hiked the jeep's legs up around his waist.

"Moan for me," the gray mech growled as he attacked the smaller Con's neck joint. He singled out the primary cable and licked it gently before biting into it hard enough to draw energon. Swindle jerked, and gave a pained cry as Astro soothed the bite with several swipes of his glossa.

"You sound so good like this," the trainformer growled as he trailed hot kisses across Swindle's vulnerable throat. "You'll look even better with your tight little valve stretched around my spike." Astrotrain dropped one large hand down to fondle Swindle's codpiece.

"Oh please," Swindle moaned breathlessly. "Want you so bad." That large hand squeezed him firmly as the other one wandered across his chassis.

**Edited for FFN  
archive of our own works/649562/chapters/1190673**

After a long moment the trainformer released Swindle's legs and pulled out of his valve. He took a moment to admire the obscenely stretched rim as his fluids dripped down to stain black thighs. Pulling out a credit chip he tossed it to the Combaticon.

"Thanks for the frag. Be seeing you around, Swindle." Thoroughly pleased, Astro left the dealer to clean himself up, not caring about the fluids that stained his own frame. Swindle looked down at the chip and told himself it was worth it. He had gotten some pleasure from the act, and more credits. He was one step closer to his goal.

Pulling a cloth from his subspace the jeep wiped himself down closed his codpiece before turning his attention to the bite mark. It took some creativity but he was able to use a combination of putty and polish to smooth most of it over. By the time Onslaught stopped by to check on his progress he was close to finishing the inventory for the day. He waved his brother off distractedly, assuring him he would be finished on time. The youngest of the gestalt didn't notice the way his older brother's optics lingered on the rough patch on his neck. If the truck didn't know any better he would have thought that was a bite mark. But that was impossible. Shaking off the thought he left his brother to his task. Hopefully this would be the last time he had to punish Swindle in such a manner. Hopefully this lesson would sink in.


	3. Chapter 3

Three sets of optics watched their target greedily. It wasn't often that they had the chance to interface with outsiders. They were small, and though they were spies, interface partners often thought that their size meant they were easily dominated. When they did want some variety it usually involved blackmail, but even that was risky. If they picked the wrong target they would often find mechs out for energon. For that reason groups like the Seekers, gestalts and the triplechangers were off limits. But now Swindle had put himself on the market, and was apparently doing his damnedest to keep it from his brothers. No one who had fragged him was dumb enough to say anything in front of the Combaticons.

Astrotrain had, of course, bragged to everyone about how tight and wet the small jeep was. He had sat in the rec room , drunk off his aft, and given explicit detail – and Swindle's prices. They knew that they could afford him. They were simply waiting for him to leave the room; they weren't going to approach the Combaticon in public. Luckily, Swindle finished drinking his energon and stood. Tossing the empty cube in the disposer, he left the room. The smaller mechs followed a few moments later. They caught up to him in the hall.

"Swindle. A word?" The Spectro component spoke. Swindle turned, frown quickly vanishing behind his salesmech smile.

"Reflector! What can I do for you?" He occasionally partnered with the group of three for business, but the Combaticon had a feeling they were after something more than just business. Well, he could charge triple the price; he knew that they were individuals, despite not knowing their names. They didn't know that he knew however, so he would have to play this one carefully.

"I would prefer to discuss this transaction in private." Swindle nodded agreeably.

"Of course. When would be a good time?"

"Now. Follow me." The three components turned as one and strode down the hall. Sighing, the purple and tan jeep followed. He didn't know where they were going, and he didn't like it. For a brief, insane moment he thought about comming his brothers to let them know where he would be if something happened, but he immediately dismissed it. He didn't want to get into any more trouble than he was already in with them. Besides, would they even care?

Fortunately, the smaller transformers were only heading to their personal quarters. He had never been on this level before, but he assumed it was safe enough. He let none of his thoughts show on his face, and entered the room when Reflector gestured to do so.

"So," he said, turning to face his clients, "business as usual? Or something else?"

"Something else." The voices in triplicate were kind of creepy. "You know what I want, Swindle."

"Sure I do. Question is, can you afford it?"

"Yes. I assume that there will be additional charges to record the act?" Swindle's energon went cold. No. If there was evidence his brothers might see it. But… his brothers had no reason to deal with Reflector. And he could add clauses to the contract, forbidding them from showing anyone else. Maybe he could make it work. Forcing himself to vent normally, the Combaticon dropped his smile.

"Absolutely. You understand that I have a reputation to keep. Hearsay and gossip don't detract from it; in fact, I've seen a boost in my usual profits on top of the ones I gain from this venture. However, video evidence _will_ slander my name. So on top of the extra fee you will sign an airtight contract agreeing that the film is for your personal use only, or I walk away right now." Reflector paused to think it over, but he could see no flaws in Swindle's reasoning. The jeep was protecting his rep and insuring that they recording couldn't be used as blackmail. Clever mech.

"Agreed. What is your price?"

"Two thousand."

"Outrageous!" The components hissed. Swindle smirked, covering his offense.

"Four hundred per spike and valve, and eight hundred to film it." The Reflector mechs exchanged a glance. For a moment they had been concerned, but Swindle hadn't said four hundred per mech; he had referred to their hardware, so he likely didn't know they were individuals. They would kill anyone who discovered their secret without hesitation. That information would make them vulnerable. They would have to keep an optic on him, however.

:What do you think?: Spectro asked his mates, :worth it?:

:Too expensive,: Spyglass responded. Spectro was inclined to agree. Viewfinder however, was more hesitant.

:What if only one of us interfaces with him, while the other two record? That would drop the price, and with our bond we would still get the full effects anyway.:

Swindle waited patiently while the mechs discussed his price. He really hoped that they all wouldn't want to use his valve. Though they were smaller than he was that many mechs would make him sore. And with his brothers scrutinizing his every move it would be difficult to hide.

'Suppose I should get used to it. After all, I'm sure there are plenty of mechs who will want something more hardcore than just taking turns with my valve.' He shuddered at the thought. Still, with every mech who bought him, he was one step closer to earning forgiveness and never having to whore himself out again.

"I wish to amend the terms. Only the lens component will be involved in the interface. The other components will film."

"So twelve hundred dollars then. Very well, I will draw up the contract and meet you during the off cycle. You know where to go?"

"Yes."

"Great. I will see you tonight."

Brawl was not the smartest mech alive. Not even close, and he knew it. Mechs like Onslaught and Blast Off could do all the deep thinking slag they wanted. Him? He preferred to blow shit up. But even he could tell that something was off with Swindle.

Their sneaky little brother had become even sneakier in the days since his betrayal. He was always gone first thing in the morning, and he snuck in late at night. And during the occasional times Brawl caught a glimpse of him throughout the day the younger mech always looked exhausted. Brawl had tried tailing him a few times, but he was nowhere near as sneaky as the jeep, and Swindle always seemed to be surrounded by mechs. This time it was Reflector, which wasn't all that suspicious. The two were business partners after all. Still, Swindle was beginning to look run down. Maybe he had a virus? Should he mention it to Onslaught? But if he did that and Swindle wasn't sick, the younger mech would get into trouble for doing… whatever it is that he's doing. Brawl was still fragging pissed over Swindle's betrayal, but he didn't do that behind-the-back-mind-game slag. He'd face Swindle one-on-one and duke it out before all was forgiven, but not while his brother looked like _that._ For now he'd wait. If Swindle didn't get better… well he'd figure something out then.

Swindle checked his chronometer and sighed. Reflector would be arriving momentarily. He had the contract drawn up and ready to be signed. The tan mech was not at all excited about this. Interfacing – fine, whatever. He had almost gotten used to it now. He could fake it well enough. But on camera? He would have to give a stellar performance. He wouldn't want Reflector to look at it later and decide they hadn't gotten their money's worth. And he was trying very hard not to think about the possibility of his brothers seeing it. Primus forbid if Vortex ever got a hold of the footage. Or Onslaught. He really didn't want to have to deal with that.

The door chime drew him from his thoughts. Showtime. Again. He sent the command to open the door.

"Hey Reflector. The contract is ready. So if you'll just sign here we can get started." The lens component strode forward while the other two moved to set up their equipment. Swindle was a little surprised. He had assumed that –seeing as their altmode was a digital camera – they would be doing the recording internally. It made no difference, however. Once the components were satisfied they gestured to their third, who signed the contract.

"So do we seal the deal with a kiss?" Swindle asked with a playfulness he didn't actually feel.

"Yes," came the threefold voice before the lens component pounced, tackling the larger mech to the berth and covering the jeep's lips with his own.

Spurred on by the lust radiating through the bond, Viewfinder aggressively plundered the Combaticon's mouth, glossa stroking and tasting every crevasse. The mech tasted smooth, like pure energon. Craving more, Viewfinder pulled the larger mech's glossa into his mouth, sucking hungrily. Swindle gave a soft moan, which only seemed to encourage the smaller mech.

Spectro purred as he watched his mate dominate the Combaticon. He focused the camera, zooming in on their joined mouths. The kiss was sensual as it was, and was made more arousing by the tiny flashes of glossa peaking through. Spyglass gave an answering groan as he draped himself over his mate's back. His fingers played over the heated plating, but he made sure that he did not interrupt the recording. Frag but Viewfinder was gorgeous! And for a bigger mech, Swindle was pretty cute too.

:You look so delicious, sprawled on top of him like that,: Spyglass purred. :I can't wait to see you ride him.: Pulling away from the kiss, Viewfinder shot his mates a smirk. He'd get to that when he was ready.

Looking down at Swindle, he could see that the mech wasn't all that charged yet. That was fine; it just meant he'd have to work for it. View' shivered in anticipation. He so loved teasing a partner until they were nearly sobbing for release.

The kiss was nice, Swindle supposed. Viewfinder was more dominant than he had expected, but he was perfectly willing to follow his lead. Whatever the customer wants, right? And he knew the Reflector mechs wouldn't hurt him; the spies were sort-of-but-not-really friends. They worked well together on business ventures, and he didn't despise them the way he did most of the army. So there was no harm in letting himself relax and maybe get something other than credits out of this deal. If not, well, it's not like he had high expectations anyway.

**Edited for FFN. The rest is at: ** /works/649562/chapters/1217179

Swindle came back to himself slowly. Despite his body's satiation his mind was in turmoil. This wasn't how he had expected the encounter to go. He didn't want to like being a whore! It was just a job. And it scared him how easily the smaller mech had taken control of him. Reflector hadn't hurt him; someone else might. He had plenty of enemies after all. He would have to find some way to prevent such a total loss of control.

Viewfinder enjoyed the softening spike inside of him for a moment longer before he crawled off of the jeep. Shivering as cool air rushed over his equipment, he closed his codpiece. His mates were also decent and Spec' had packed up the camera. There was only one thing left to take care of.

"Twelve hundred credits, as promised," he said, pushing a chip into Swindle's limp hand. The gestalt said nothing else; they simply gathered their equipment and left the room.

Swindle looked down at the credits in his hand and wondered how he should feel.


	4. Chapter 4

"Where are you going?" Swindle froze. Vortex was leaning against the door, blocking any escape. He was going to be late! Not that he was eager for the meeting; being chained down was NOT one of his kinks. But for two thousand credits- just for the chains, never mind the multiple partners - he'd do it.

"Level six. I have business with the Coneheads." Swindle was proud that his voice didn't tremor.

"Uh huh. Business." Vortex's neutral expression was eerie. The 'copter was never this calm. Oh Primus! Did he know?! Did they all know? He was trying to be secretive, but it was a small ship; it wasn't unlikely that someone had tipped his brothers off.

"Well I suppose I shouldn't keep you from your... business. Just remember Swin, what happened last time your business affected us. But if you want to dig your grave even deeper I won't stop you." the larger mech stood aside and allowed the jeep to leave the room.

* * *

Vortex watched his brother flee with narrowed optics. There was something off with Swindle. His mannerisms had changed. It was subtle but his youngest sibling was much more reserved, almost meek. More so than could be contributed to trying to avoid fragging them off further. He wouldn't meet their optics, and did his best to avoid them unless it was absolutely necessary. While his sneaking around wasn't too unusual, his lack of confidence was. Swindle could sell the Book of Unicron to Primus. The interrogator wasn't sure if his other brothers had noticed, but mechs went out of their way to avoid talking about Swindle. He had walked into rooms and heard his brother's name, only for everyone to go quiet when they noticed him. Frag that. He would find out what Swindle was hiding even if he had to kill someone to do it.

* * *

He was taking too many risks. First the video, and now the Coneheads. Starscream's subordinates. Despite contrary belief, the Combaticons actually got a lot rather well with the Air Commander. If Ramjet or his trinemates said anything to the seeker, Starscream would mention it to his brothers. But it was thirty two hundred credits. He would just have to suck it up and put word out that he would be willing to do more hardcore stuff in the berth. More hardcore meant more credits, which meant this whole affair would be over with faster. He could handle it.

Shaking off the apprehension Swindle smiled and dimmed us optics, tying for a sultry look. It immediately garnered the attention of the three mechs lounging around his work room.

"Swindle," Ramjet purred, "so glad you could make it." The jet stood and flicked his wings, drawing attention to the appendages.

"Glad to be here," the merchant said, optics obligingly tracing the flier's wings. He squeaked in surprise as arms wrapped around him and lifted him of the ground. One hand snaked down between his legs to fondle his codpiece. Ramjet and Thrust watched hungrily as their mate molested the Combaticon.

"Open up little bot. The sooner you're stretched the sooner we can have you." Swindle blanched internally, though he made sure the seekers only saw lust. He really, really didn't want their oversized spikes shoved in him. They could tear him apart!

**Edited for FFN: archiveofourownDOTorg/works/649562/chapters/1261157**

Dirge purred happily as tight throat tubing milked his spike, extending his overload. He pulled out of the abused lips when Swindle went still. He didn't want to, wanted to push back into that sweet mouth and 'face him again until he begged him to stop. Only the thought of angry, overprotective brothers stopped him. But... would overprotective brothers let their youngest whore himself out? His trinemates caught the errant thought and purred at the idea. They would have to investigate this.

Ramjet took a moment to admire the debauched form spread out on the berth. Causally he tucked his equipment away before dropping a credit chip on Swindle's chassis.

"If your brothers ever get tired of you Swin come find us. We'll take /good/ care of you." Snickering, the trine took their leave, not noticing the pain that flashed in the violet optics.

After a long moment Swindle forced himself up and staggered into the tiny wash rack. His loins burned, but it wasn't as bad now that his valve was empty. Still, he grabbed a container of healing foam. He didn't want to risk having a tear in his valve get infected, if there were any. It felt like there had to be one or two at least.

Standing under the hot spray the smallest Combaticon let the warm cleaner fluid soothe away his aches. Feeling more alive, he started to scrub at his plating, wanting the dirty feeling to disappear. Once he was relatively clean the mech pressed the nozzle of the sealing foam to his valve. He gasped as the foam spread into every crevasse, numbing his burning sensors. Bu even worse than the pain of being too stretched was the pain that came with Ramjet's parting words. The con artist scrubbed angrily at his optics. He would /not/ cry. He was stronger than this! But a few stray tears dripped down his face, mixing with the cleaner before being swept away.


	5. Chapter 5

Anxiousness was not a feeling Swindle enjoyed. His latest business venture has led him to an unused storage closet on the lowest level of the Nemesis. He back was to the door, which made him feel extremely vulnerable. But it was part of the deal. The deal was worth seven thousand credits. He couldn't lose it.

The Combaticon had returned to his workroom three cycles ago to find a datapad lying on the berth. It was unsigned, and contained a contract for interface with unusual conditions. First, the entire exchange was to be done anonymously on the requester's part. Second, the price was non-negotiable. Third, it would be done at a time and place chosen by the anonymous mech. Swindle would have turned it down flat had the offered sum not been so high. How could he refuse? So he had signed the agreement and left. When he returned later that joor the contract was gone. The jeep made a mental note to change his security codes as soon as this affair was over.

Just last cycle another pad had arrived, detailing Swindle's instructions. He was to go alone to the closet her currently occupied and face the wall, optics off. He was to prep his valve ahead of time, as the mech had no interest in foreplay. Any damage that occurred would be Swindle's fault. He was to offline is vocalizer, and be ready at seventeen hundred hours, local time. So here he was.

The door opened. Swindle quickly flicked his optics off. The mech said nothing. He simply pressed his bulk up against Swindle and slid a thick thigh between the smaller Decepticon's legs. A large hand dropped down to grope his codpiece. The conmech let it slide back, and gasped silently as a thick finger immediately invaded his valve, testing his readiness. Not in the least bit aroused, Swindle had used a synthetic lubricant to help stretch his valve. Apparently satisfied his guest.

**Edited for FFN: archiveofourownDOTorg/works/649562/chapters/1261237**

Finally, after a minor eternity, the mech gave one last jarring thrust, groaning as he spilled hot transfluid into the smaller mech. He stayed pressed inside Swindle until his spike was spent before finally pulling out .The hot fluid rushed down the backs of purple thighs, causing Swindle to grimace. He would have to clean up before he could leave the closet.

A datachip was pressed into his hand, and he immediately plugged it into a port. Seven thousand credits, as promised. He didn't acknowledge the mech at all; he simply waited until the door slide closed, signifying the mech's exit. Relieved, he sagged against the wall. He allowed himself a moment of weakness, before putting on his mask and getting ready to rejoin the crew. And if he felt dirty, well, it would pass. Eventually.

* * *

"Who the Pit is Swindle fragging?!" Onslaught looked up from his battle plans, surprised. Vortex was slumped in one of his office's chairs, Blast Off sitting poised and proper in the other. The question had, of course, come from Vortex.

"What makes you think he's seeing someone?"

"And why do you think we care?" Blast Off asked, bored.

"The brat's out all hours, is being ridiculously secretive, the crew is tight lipped, he takes dozens of showers, and, oh yeah, he comes in covered in dents and paint!" Onslaught blinked. He hadn't seen dents or paint, but come to think of it, Swindle was behaving very suspiciously…

"Again, why do we care?"

"Because I don't think he's fragging whoever it is willingly!" Both older mechs snapped to attention at that, optics hard. They may be furious with their brother, but they still loved him (and they would kill anyone who dared to mock them for it…again).

"What?" The gestalt leader looked at his younger brother, optics deadly serious. If Vortex was joking, there would be Pit to pay.

"Look, he's changed. He won't meet anyone's optics, he avoids us, which would be understandable if he wasn't going to insane lengths to do so, and mechs give me frightened looks if I mention his name. They know something, and apparently find it hilarious until they notice I'm listening. Swindle reeks of fear now when I do corner him, but not like when we were first angry with him. Then he was scared, but he was still Swin. Now, I don't know who the frag he is, and it has something to do with whoever he's seeing. Slaggit, even _Brawl_ has noticed." The two older brothers exchanged an unreadable look. They had seen the same signs, the just hadn't put the pieces together. Onslaught had been too busy and too angry, and Blast Off had volunteered for a space mission and had just returned.

"Find out. I want to know exactly what he's been up to. Any mech he's been seen with at any point, I want to know. And I want to know now." He would kill anyone who touched his brother. They all would. And they would enjoy doing so.


	6. Chapter 6

Breakdown watched the Combaticon discretely. He had almost gathered up the courage to approach the solitary mech. Drag Strip had given him the idea; after a long, painful session with Motormaster -as punishment for letting his paranoia affect him so badly on a scouting mission - the racer had cornered his younger brother.

"Look Breaky, you gotta find some way to calm down or Motor will slag you," Breakdown had been surprised at the concern in his older brother's optics. "You should talk to Swindle. Apparently, he's a great frag and will do anything for the right price. He'll even let you blindfold him." That had cinched it. A 'facing that didn't hurt and no judgmental optics staring at him? It was his ultimate fantasy.

Taking another swing of energon the white and blue Lamborghini steeled his nerve and stood. Swindle was sitting alone in the mostly empty mess hall, gazing absently out the window. Breakdown didn't know what he was looking at; all he could see was the vast darkness of the ocean. Dull purple optics turned to him. They brightened instantly and a smile lit up pretty faceplates.

"Breakdown! How are you mech?" The Lamborghini didn't notice how false the cheery tone sounded.

"Fine. I've been hearing some... rumors. Care to confirm them?" he could not show insecurity here. Swindle would eat him alive. He tried to emulate Drag Strip's confidence. It seemed to work as Swindle's smile darkened into a smirk.

"Perhaps. But not here. Come with me." Squashing his paranoia, the Stunticon followed Swindle to a secluded room on the private quarter's deck. For once the creepy feeling of optics crawling over his plating didn't seem so bad. They would know what he was going to be doing with Swindle. Still he kept his own focused of the lithe mech in front of him. Rider was right; he really did have a lovely, fuckable aft.

The older mech guided his client into the room. Only when the lock engaged did Swindle feel safe to discuss business.

"Alright, tell me about these rumors."

"They say you enjoy a good 'face and are willing to...cater to kinks."

"Hmm. Well I suppose it depends on what you are asking for." Breakdown felt powerful. Despite the coy act he was sure the Combaticon was going to agree. The rush of knowing Swindle would do what he wanted had him stepping up so his chassis was pressed against the other Decepticon's for the first time he willingly met the optics of someone not a part of his gestalt.

"You know I don't like others watching me. I want your optics off the entire time. And to make sure you don't cheat you'll be blindfolded as well." Swindle shuddered. He hated having his senses turned off. Luckily Breakdown took his reaction as arousal.

"That's a little out of my comfort zone," he said teasingly, "but if you're willing to pay I'm sure we can come to an arrangement."

"Six hundred credits." Swindle looked offended.

"Three thousand." Breakdown grimaced. He knew the greedy fragger would out bargain him. Maybe it would be best just to give him a high offer. "Fifteen hundred."

"Two thousand five hundred."

"Motormaster will murder me. Two thousand." Internally Swindle scowled, but he could see the stubbornness in the younger mech's optics. His fear of Motormaster would keep him from going higher. So he smiled and said,

"Deal. Give me the credits now and we can start whenever you want." The transfer was made quickly and the jeep found himself laying flat on his berth, optics off and a length of dark fabric wound around his head. He had to fight not to panic.

In The Box he hadn't been able to see either. He hadn't been able to feel, to hear, to talk. He had been all alone in silence. Only the faint, closed bond had kept him sane. The darkness reminded him of how helpless he had been. It had been a mech very similar to the one pinning him down who had imprisoned him. Breakdown could have passed for his twin. Funny how he hadn't noticed that before now.

Breakdown purred happily, loving how pliant the Combaticon was beneath him. Normally he had to fight for this position and he rarely won. Now he had plenty of time to explore and experiment. And Swindle was already running so hot.

Firm lips trailed over his neck cabling, alternating with sharp nips and soothing licks. Swindle focused on that, trying not to see the face of his captor. This was Breakdown. He could take Breakdown in his recharge. But the panic continued to bubble in his mind. He gasped a thin digits slid underneath his plating, stoking sensitive wires.

Moving down to his playmate's chassis, the blue and white mech dug into plating as his mouth explored the sensitive windshield. Swindle was so responsive! He bucked up into Breakdown, desperate for more.

* * *

He was fine. He was not strapped to a table, alone, brothers already gone. The hands on his chassis were not going to split open his chest plates and steal his spark. The darkness was only temporary. He could still feel. He could feel the weight on his legs, keeping him pressed to the berth. He could feel as the hands moved lower, stroking over his codpiece. He let it retract, and heard the pleased growl of his client. He was fine.

**Edited for FFN: archiveofourown /works/649562/chapters/1325553**

* * *

For a moment they laid on the berth, still connected. Swindle was relieved that his ploy had succeeded. He had gotten very good at manipulating his valve these past few groons. Now all he needed was to get Breakdown off of him, and out of the room. He wanted the fragging blindfold off, but he didn't want to look at the face that was so similar to that mech's, so he would have to keep it on until the other was gone. Luckily, the Stunticon chose that moment to pull out of his sore valve.

"Drag Strip was right. You are good. Don't be surprised if my brothers approach you. I haven't been this relaxed in vorns." Swindle went cold. The gestalt bond. Of course the other Stunticons would know what was going on. They might not have felt the interface (or they might have if the bond was open), but they would still feel the emotions accompanying it. Swindle always made sure to close his own but what if his brothers... it didn't bare thinking about. They hadn't noticed or they would have said something. Still, now was not the time to panic about it. He could do that in private.

"Sure," he said with an easy smile, "if they are as good as you," and have the credits, "that won't be a problem." Now getoutgetoutgetout! Breakdown puffed up, pleased that he had impressed the more experienced mech. Wouldn't Drag Strip and Dead End be surprised? He would have to tell them as soon as possible. In fact, Dragster and 'Rider were off shift, and Dead End would be in a breem. He suddenly wanted to get back to their quarters. "Keep the blindfold if you want. I have others," he said as he left the room. Swindle waited until the pedesteps faded down the hall before ripping the offending material off and rebooting his optics. The brightly lit room came into focus. Purple and gunmetal gray walls surrounded him. He was on the Nemesis. He was safe. His brothers didn't know. He repeated that mantra over and over, but he didn't really believe it.

* * *

Blast Off's optics flickered brightly in surprise. A strong surge of panic filled the gestalt bond before cutting off sharply. Immediately he scanned for his brothers' conditions. Brawl was in recharge, and both Vortex and Onslaught had their sides of the bond closed. Vortex because he was in an interrogation and Onslaught because he was in an Officers' meeting. despite what most mechs thought, the Combaticons did not keep their bond closed all of the time. Usually it was neutral, with no one projecting or blocking, unless certain events called for it. It was too much work, and a strain on their sparks, to keep it closed all of the time. So that meant the only ones not blocking or in recharge were Blast Off and Swindle. But Swindle had disappeared too fast for Blast Off to get a good read on him. He immediately sent priority pings to his brothers, turned off his data pad, and left his room.

He encountered Swindle a few corridors over, looking freshly buffed. He had clearly just come from the washracks. Swindle stopped in his tracks.

"Um, hey Blast Off." The shuttle was in no mood for small talk.

"What the frag was that?" Swindle looked puzzled.

"What are you talking about?"

"The panic you sent blaring over the bond." Violet optics widened in fear before his younger brother was able to hide it.

"I don't know what you are talking about," the younger mech muttered as he tried to slip past his brother. Blast Off reached out and grabbed the jeep's arm, not done with the conversation. Swindle flinched violently. Blast Off jerked his hand back as if he had been burned. He may have threatened their youngest over his astronomically stupid betrayal, but he had never, not once, raised his hand against his brother. But Swindle was clearly afraid of him.

The tan Combaticon used his brother's distraction to get around him, darting down the hall. The shuttle stared after him, knowing that giving chase would spook Swindle more. By the time he got back to their shared living quarters swindle had barricaded himself in his room. Brawl was staring at the door in confusion. Hearing the shuttle enter, he turned and asked,

"What the frag is wrong with Swin?"

"I would like to know as well," Onslaught said as he entered the room, Vortex in tow. Sighing, the shuttle began his explanation. Onslaught growled.

"Find out who he's seeing. I want to know in the next six joors. Vortex, i don't care who you have to torture to do it." Vortex, for once, was grim.

"Whatever you say, Ons."


	7. Chapter 7

He stared at the small vial cradled in his hand. It looked innocent, harmless. But what it contained… he couldn't deny he needed it. He wouldn't make it through the coming cycle without it. And Mixmaster had guaranteed it would activate and burn out of his systems cleanly at a given command. Safe. But it didn't feel like it.

Swindle had never taken an aphrodisiac before. He had heard rumors of the intense burn that supposedly made interfacing much more intense. But he had never been interested in that. If a lover wasn't good enough to arouse the jeep on his own then he wasn't worth Swindle's time.

His internal alarm pinged him. He only had two kliks to get down to the shuttle bay on time. This was it. After this cycle he would have enough credits to repay his brothers. He would be able to buy back all of the energon and have credits to spare. He could get Brawl that cannon upgrade, and Vortex had been eying that whip in Counterpunch's collection. Blast Off always enjoyed new reading material, and a mint condition _Priux Siege- Tactician Edition_ had just hit the black market. The jeep had fond memories of Onslaught teaching him the game as a youngling. For fifty thousand credits, he would do practically anything.

Swindle had been surprised - and terrified - when Shockwave had contacted him. He had always assumed the Cyclops was asexual, but apparently he had needs like any other mech. Or perhaps not, considering what the guardian wanted.

:Blitzwing to Swindle. What's your ETA?:

:One klik.: the small Decepticon quickly downed the vial's contents, shuddering at the taste. He left his quarter in a hurry, knowing Blitzwing would leave without him. He couldn't afford that.

The mech in question was already in shuttleform, energon loaded securely. Swindle had volunteered to act as escort. He wasn't really needed, Blitzwing could take care of himself, but it was better than explaining to Megatron that he needed a ride to Cybertron so he could whore himself to one of the tyrant's top lieutenants (and Blitzwing; there was no way the mech would keep quiet without a bribe).

:Well, get in. We don't have all cycle.: There was definitely a leer in the triplechanger's voice. Swindle said nothing; he simply buckled himself into his seat.

The trip was both entirely too long and not nearly long enough. They made good time and docked easily. Shockwave was there, waiting for them. Wrapping his normal arm around Swindle's shoulders, the solitary mech wasted no time in guiding his companion to his quarters, giving Blitzwing the order to join them when he was finished unloading. Doing his best to hide his nerves Swindle sent the code to activate the aphrodisiac.

Immediately heat rushed through him. His valve moistened and his spike pressed uncomfortably against his codpiece. He barely suppressed a cry, and sagged slightly against Shockwave's much larger form. He could hear the purple mech's cooling fans kick on, but it was so hard to think past the fire flooding his lines.

* * *

It had been far too long since the last time he had had a Cybertronian frame presses against him. Shockwave would never admit to having such a need, a weakness. The Combaticon had provided a convenient solution. He had fragged the Eradicons in the past but it wasn't the same as 'facing a full sparked Cybertronian. But Swindle came with his own problems. The young mech was positively tiny compared to the guardian; his valve would be too small to take Shockwave's girth. The Eradicons could be used to fix that, however. They varied in size and equipment and would frag Swindle until he was loose enough to take Shockwave.

**Edited for FFN: archiveofourown /works/649562/chapters/1325596**

* * *

It was over. Done. Finito. Finally. Swindle sobbed quietly in relief, curled up in a corner of the washracks. His jaw was sore, his valve ached horribly and he was so, so dirty, no matter how hard he scrubbed. He had allowed the drug to burn out of his systems on the trip home, so at least the hated pleasure wasn't blazing through him anymore. It was a minor comfort. But he had done what he set out to do. Maybe he wouldn't be able to buy his brothers' forgiveness entirely, but this was a start. If nothing else it would prove to them that he was willing to go to any lengths to make things right.

Forcing his tears to dry up, the Combaticon stood and ran the cleanser one more time. When he was clean he could go back to their quarters and recharge until the others were off shift. The youngest of the brothers was so focused on his task that he didn't notice as a much larger mech stepped into the washracks.

* * *

Vortex was not a nice mech. He was obnoxious, loud and possessive. He was also very, very deadly. And he did not like others touching his brothers. He knew of course, that he shouldn't interfere in their 'facing lives (Decepticons didn't do _love_), not the least because most of them would put him through the wall, but he had always screened their partners. Onslaught would kill him if he ever found out what, exactly, had happened to Aftershock. Fragging cheater. He had to make sure that whoever the others chose, they were worthy of being a Combaticon's plaything. These mechs weren't, wings or not. It was unfortunate for them that they'd run their mouths in such a public place. Even worse for them was the fact that the Seeker Code placed Trine and Family above all else. Starscream considered the Combaticons, however reluctantly, to be Family. He had re-created them after all. It had been laughably easy to convince the Air Commander to give him free reign over his subordinates.

The coneheads had been easy to break. Wings were terribly sensitive, and it hadn't taken much to get them to sing. The rage that he felt at what they revealed had burned hot, and he'd taken it out on the rapists. Because that's what they were. There was no way Swindle would sell himself. Shooting a disgusted look at the broken, quivering forms huddled at his pedes, Vortex commed Onslaught.

* * *

"Hello, Swindle." Violet optics widened in shock. Jerking around, Swindle found Motormaster standing before him, blocking the only way out.

"Oh, hey Motormaster," Swindle said casually, trying to keep his voice strong.

"So I hear your some kind of prosti-bot now." The look in the semi's optics terrified the smaller mech. He had to get out. Now.

"No I'm not. That was a limited time offer, and it's over. I am afraid you'll have to look elsewhere."

"Oh yeah?" the Stunticon growled, grabbing Swindle by the throat and throwing him into the wall, "Cuz I was gonna pay you, but if you're not willing to give it up then I'll just have to _take_ it instead." Swindle lashed out with his pedes, kicking the brute's pelvis. His fear spiked when Motormaster didn't react, and he remembered that the Stunticon leader had a force field. He struggled harder, trying to twist free from the punishing grip on his neck. Motormaster just laughed.

The blows didn't hurt, thanks to his generator, but if Motormaster wanted to frag the mech properly he'd have to turn it off. So he needed to immobilize the thrashing mech's legs. As much as he enjoyed Swindle's panicked struggling he did not want his interface array damaged once he brought out his spike. Shifting his hold on the Combaticon's throat to one hand, the semi reached down and jerked his legs apart, pulling them up onto his broad hips. Motormaster groaned as the action pressed the jeep's codpiece against his own. Breakdown had spoken highly of how tight and sweet Swindle had been. He could hardly wait to tear away the last barrier keeping him from his prize, but he wanted to savor this.

Swindle went limp. He couldn't get free, could barely move with his legs spread open and the semi's much larger weight pinning him to the wall. He offlined his vocalizer, not wanting to give Motormaster the satisfaction of hearing him cry. He body shook with silent sobs as tears ran down the older mech's cheeks. Swindle flinched as a warm glossa pressed against his face.

"Your tears taste so sweet," the larger mech purred. Swindle sobbed harder. Motormaster cupped the cool codpiece, digits digging under the seams as he prepared to tear it away. Just as the seams gave way a massive weight slammed into the Stunticon's side. Motormaster dropped his captive, thrashing beneath his attacker. He managed to throw the mech off and scrambled out of reach before turning to face the other mech.

Cold rage was written over Onslaught's face. Motormaster smirked, sure that he could take the smaller mech. The arrogant truck didn't realize exactly how much trouble he was in, or how fast the other gestalt leader could move. Before he knew what was going on Onslaught was in front of him, hands digging underneath his plating. Energon lines burst, spraying the smaller mech with fluid as he tore the shield generator out of Motormaster's chassis. He then began methodically taking the semi apart. The tactician targets joints and non-vital energon lines, taking care to (painfully) disable, not kill. He was nowhere near done with Motormaster, but Swindle had to take priority now. Vortex could play with the Stunticon until Onslaught was ready to deal with him.

* * *

Vortex met up with Blast Off and Brawl enroute to the washracks. The sudden rage that flooded the bond caused all them to falter momentarily. Onslaught had _never_ been this angry. Picking up speed, it didn't take them long to reach their destination. They exchanged wary looks as the rage simmered into _hatred/murder/fear/worry_, but they were soldiers. They were prepared for anything. The door slid open.

Except this.

* * *

There was energon everywhere. Motormaster lay sprawled on the floor, iridescent violet splattered across his frame. The brothers barely spared him a glance. Their attention was held by the two mechs in the corner. Onslaught was actually sitting on the ground, back against the wall, with Swindle in his lap. Their youngest brother was curled into the eldest's chassis, violent tremors wracking his frame. Swindle's damaged codpiece was not far from them, the most telling sign of what had occurred.

Swindle flinched as the door opened, not wanting anyone to see him in such a state. He didn't dare look any of his brothers in the optics. How could he possibly face them? He panicked when Onslaught shifted, curling further into his brother's arms. The elder mech simply stood up, shaking his head when Blast Off moved to take the jeep from him.

"You need medical attention, Swindle," the teal mech's voice was uncharacteristically soft.

"No! I'm fine!"

"You're not." Swindle said nothing to that. He wasn't, and he knew it. Sensing that his youngest brother wasn't going to protest, Onslaught firmed his grip on the jeep and headed for the door.

_:I've alerted the Constructicons that we are coming:_ Blast Off said over the comm to prevent distressing Swindle _:They are making the… appropriate arrangements as we speak:_

_:Good.:_ The trip to the Constructicons lair was made in silence; Vortex and Brawl had taken positions in front and to the side of Onslaught and Swindle while Blast Off brought up the rear. Thankfully there was no one in the halls – Swindle was staring unseeingly at Onslaught's chassis, but an outsider's presence could have sent him into a panic.

Hook and Scrapper met them at the door. The ushered the Combaticon gestalt inside, but no one made any move to take the damaged mech from his brother. They were guided into one of the private rooms, and Onslaught carefully placed Swindle on the berth before stepping back to let Hook do his job.

A black hand on his arm stopped him. Listless purple optics stared up at him as Swindle pressed a small datachip into his hand, his arm dropping lifelessly to the berth as soon as Onslaught took it. Scavenger, who had come in with medical supplies, guided him out of the room and back to the rest of his team. Sinking into a chair, he activated the chip. His fuel pump stalled. Sixty four thousand, four hundred fifty credits. The amount was phenomenal, and Onslaught had a feeling he knew exactly how Swindle had made so much in such a short period of time. Vortex took the datachip from him and cursed when he saw the amount. Angrily throwing the chip to Brawl, the helicopter stormed out of the medbay, feelings of murder flooding the bond. A moment later Brawl followed him. Blast Off said nothing; he simply took a seat next to his older brother to wait. While the surgery itself would be relatively quick, it would take a long, long time to fix the broken look in Swindle's optics. If it even could be fixed. With one foolish conversation they had broken their brother.

The End…or is it?


End file.
